


When Love Arrives

by freedomheart



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Rape, mentions of sexual. physical and mental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomheart/pseuds/freedomheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe love stays. Maybe love can't. Maybe love shouldn't.</p><p> </p><p>Based off the Spoken Word poems When Love Arrives by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye<br/>As well as a section based off of Trigger Warning by Karina Stowe</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Love Arrives

Michael knew what love should be…. In middle school.

Love was pretty.  Love had red hair as violent as her temper and love had nails painted bright blue.  She had glossy lip gloss and pink skirts.  She was on the softball team.  She made funny voices and liked all the same shows as him.  Michael didn’t know her name, but Michael knew she existed.

He checked his homeroom, he roamed the halls.  He looked around bookcases and on vacation, when he went to Disney land.

He looked in church, peeking around at girls in his Sunday school class, hoping to meet eyes the color of rich gems and a face so beautiful his heart wanted to stop, then beat out of his chest.

She would be funny, she would be kind.  She would wear her hair in a French braid.  She would be loud. She would match his voice in yelling and his temper.  She would like Charles Dickens, but hate Emily Dickenson.  She would match him, hit for hit and yell for yell.

Michael knew exactly what love looked like….. in seventh grade

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gavin thought he knew what love should look like.

Love was supposed to have long blond hair.  But love had short black hair.  Love was supposed to like pink, love was supposed to have a polka dotted skirt and tights with a hole in the left knee.  But love liked yellow, love wore a rugby jersey with a white number 23 splashed across the back.  Love was supposed to be a girl, but instead, love was a boy.  Love would be soft, love would be quiet, love would be patient and controlled.  Love would understand.  Love would be troubled. Love would need saving.  Love would need hands entwined. 

Gavin knew love would have to be out there, he just had to find him.  Gavin looked, he looked so hard. He combed the parks, he looked through shopping malls and in cinemas.  He looked under the bed and on top of rooftops.  Gavin wanted to find hair soft and fuzzy, cheeks smooth.  Love would be a hand in winter to hold close, love would understand.  They’d be puzzles pieces, matched together perfectly, every curve, every piece, every soul.

Gavin knew exactly what love looked like…. In seventh grade.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael didn’t know what love looked like anymore.

Love was supposed to be Lindsay Tuggy.  She was pretty, no beautiful.  She had guns bigger than his.  She was everything love was supposed to be. 

Love turned out to be Puerto Rican.

Michael Jones was in highs school.  Homeroom had lost its joy, the halls had lost their magic, and love was less appealing.

It was a Monday, Michael was nodding off in his desk because he had been out late with his church youth group.

Love didn’t walk in, instead a Puerto Rican boy with black glasses and a Pokémon tee shirt walked in.

Ray was the boy’s name. Ray was funny and bright.  Ray was Puerto Rican but shockingly Caucasian.

Michael and Ray became fast friends, they shared a love for Halo.

Ray didn’t play softball, Ray’s eyes weren’t the color of emeralds, but his eyes lit up when he won a round of Call of Duty.

Ray didn’t wear his hair braided, and Ray hated Charles Dickens.

Ray wasn’t supposed to be love.

Ray wasn’t supposed to make Michael’s face grow hot and red.

Ray’s touch wasn’t supposed to feel like fire and ice.

Ray’s words weren’t supposed to taste like vanilla and cinnamon, sweet on Michael’s tongue and melting in his mouth.

Michael wasn’t supposed to call Ray’s house and hang up because he got too nervous hearing his dad’s voice on the other end of the line.

Michael wasn’t supposed to hear Hold on Till May by Pierce the Veil and feel his stomach turn to jelly because Ray loves that song.

And Ray turned into Michael’s definition of love.

And love took over Michael’s life and stretched his heart and every part of his soul felt full and complete.

But love was marred.

Love fell.

It didn’t shatter into thousands of pieces with screaming and crying and swearing.

Love melted away, slowly, and love changed.

Michael fought, but love, with Ray, pulled away.

It was tragic, unkind, bitter, cruel.

When love was gone, Michael felt like it took his heart with it.

It felt shriveled and dying.  Broken.

Michael felt alone.

Love stayed away for a long time.

Michael wandered through life, not looking for love.  Love was too scary now.

Love was a question now, not simply an answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gavin was sure he found love.

Love was everything love was supposed to be.

Love was troubled and sensitive.

Love arrived one day, swooped in and saved Gavin from a monster.

Love was dark, love was dashing.

Love swept Gavin off his feet and made him feel alive.  Love turned into grabbing hands and teeth getting in the way and sweat and warm bodies pressed together.

Love turned into late nights under the stars and standing on rooftops during a storm and wanting to fly, but not needing to because you can get high with crashing lips and tangled legs.

Love turned into love poems and complements and romantic dates.

Love turned into the taste of beer and the feeling of fireworks and handcuffs rubbing tender wrists and life became love.  It made Gavin’s head feel like cotton and his soul feel alive.

Then, slowly, love turned into harsh hands and a harsher tongue.

Love turned into screaming and tears and cowering in corners.

Love turned into manipulation and fear.

Love turned into bruises and sprained wrists and “I fell”

Love turned into seclusion and Gavin locking himself away with his heart left in loves hands.

Love turned into obsession.

Love became terror, but Gavin couldn’t get away. Love had Gavin by the heart and love was Gavin’s entire life.

Love was Gavin standing in front of it, slashing open the parts of Gavin he thought were ugly.

Love was dragging into bed and blood and tears and begging and please fucking don’t.

Love became Gavin’s mother noticing the blood on his shirts.

Love was being dragged away in handcuffs. 

It was Gavin racing after the police car, tears burning trails down his face.

It was calling a court date.

It was shaving his head because maybe then love wouldn’t be able to find him.

It was filling out paperwork.

It was love sitting a jail cell, and Gavin sitting under a stairwell, shaking from the memories of everything they did to each other.

It was testifying.

It was sleepless nights and screaming nightmares and “please no”

It was calling the hotlines, love was being alone again.

It was holding a baseball bat in his hand when he slept.

It was locking away Gavin’s heart inside himself, and not trusting it to anyone else.

Hiding and love left, love wasn’t the same, love couldn’t be the same ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael didn’t care about love anymore.

Love was just too complicated and love didn’t come back around.

Until the fall of that year, when love hummed back into his life. Quietly, sure, but it was Love.

Love wasn’t love at all first, love was friendly.

Love had green eyes, but not a brilliant emerald green, but a soft green color, the color of field grass.

His hair wasn’t brilliant red, or dark and soft.  It was the color of wheat, soft and fluffy.

Love was an open field, all grass and softness and rippling wind.

Love was scared. Michael could tell.  Love flinched at his touch, shied away from his voice.

Love had scars on his neck, and clutching hands under the table, and a quivering voice that broke more than it should.

Love stayed up all night and only slept for short spurts.

Love smelled like vodka, laundry detergent and the world after a rain.

Love was reluctant, love was quiet, love was timid.

Love was not what Michael was expecting.  Love was the silliest drunk he had ever met.  Love was clumsy, but always managed to fall right into Michael’s arms. Love made up crazy words and claimed they were British slang and made squeaky sounds when he lost in a video game. Love was brilliant with video cameras and documented their lives together.

Love filmed their first meeting, when Gavin fell when taping the sky, and Michael was the one to pick him up.

Love photographed their first date, when they found a park bench that fit them perfectly, and they watched the stars.

Love documented the day he brought the last chair into Michael’s apartment, and the way Michael playfully scolded Gavin for dropping the camera on the stairs.

Love did not document the heavy breathing and entangled legs and guiding hands.  He also didn’t document the flinches and the nightmares where Michael would hold him until the tears stopped and the morning came.

Love wasn’t perfect. Love was messy.

Love chewed too loudly ad love never did the dishes.  Love gagged at everything and couldn’t stand the sight of wet bread.

But that was all okay to Michael.

Because love was beautiful, even when he didn’t think so, even when he didn’t want to hear it.

Love was beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love crashed into Gavin’s life.

Fresh into America, Gavin was running away from him, from his past, from himself.

Love swept into Gavin’s life, catching him when he tripped over a curb.

Love crashed into Gavin’s life with a flurry of freckles and rust colored hair and eyes so brilliant brown that Gavin wanted to lounge in them.  Love had a louder voice, a broader back.  Love wore a Zelda tattoo proudly and love would eat anything and love would never ever back down from a dare.

Love yelled, and sometimes, Gavin feel back into the scared teenager, but love always noticed.

Love would then collect Gavin in his arms and everything about him became soft, from his eyes to his voice.

Love’s vision was terrible, and love did not like violin.

But love’s voice always turned away at Hold on Till May. Love had songs that reminded him of someone else.  Love tried to make a cake for Gavin’s birthday but ended up setting the pan on fire and setting off the fire alarm in their apartment.

Love could make Gavin laugh anywhere, but love always left dirty clothes all over the floor, and mugs all over the counter.

Love let the word dick slip through his lips when they skyped his parents.

Love was an angry driver and lost his temper at something silly every day.

Love was messy, love was not as simple as it used to be.

But love was beautiful still.

Love never stopped being beautiful.

Love held him at night, when the nightmares burned at his mind.

Love was precious when holding his cat.

Love always told him he was beautiful.  Love told him when nobody else would, love told him even when he didn’t want to hear love.

And yes, love left the cap off the toothpaste, but Love was life, and love became an answer again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Love arrived exactly when Michael needed him to, but love left way before Michael was ready.

Love stood by when Michael’s parents came for an unexpected visit.

Love cried when Michael’s parents screamed torment at him.

Love held on when Michael flew backward from the force of the slap.

Love was the one who for the first time, held Michael when he cried after.

Love was not ready for Michael, Michael was not ready for love.

Love moved the last chair out on a rainy cold fall day, 4 years after that fall day when Love fell into Michael’s arms.

Michael looked love in the eyes, holding his own emotion bottled in his chest.

Michael told love to keep in touch, but they both knew it was the end, it would hurt too much.

It would hurt to hear love’s voice and not be able to hold love close to his chest.

He would miss love’s hands, held tightly within his own.

He would miss loves jokes and he would miss the park bench that fit them perfectly.  He would miss the video camera, always in his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love had been there for every party, every drunken dare, every nightmare.

Without love, Gavin felt lost.

So Gavin ran, the cat stayed with Geoff, his best friend, along with all the things that belonged to him, and Gavin ran.

Gavin ran to Australia, New York, California, wide awake, taping his eyes to his forehead so he wouldn’t have to sleep without love.

Gavin found solace in is video camera, he found solace in looking and living through a lens.

Love was over, Love had taken his heart and now it was gone and Michael was with it, and nothing was important but his camera and his backpack.

And maybe love stays. Maybe love cant.

Love was gone. Michael’s life was gone.

So Michael crawled into a beer bottle, a joint in one hand and vodka in the other. And because vodka reminded him so much of Love, Michael drank more.

It’s easier to pretend love never existed then to try to forget him.

And Michael’s parents didn’t want a ‘f*g’ in their home, and Michael couldn’t keep a job because of the rum on his breath.

And the joint rolled between his fingers threw him high and the white powder brought him back and the heroine driving through his bloodstream was the only thing that made him able to think about Gavin.

And Michael’s fucking worst hallucinations still made him remember Gavin’s soft voice, his beautiful hair.

Maybe love stays.  Maybe love shouldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And the next time Gavin saw love was ten years later.

Gavin filmed and met a model named Ryan, and 4 years after Michael, Gavin had love again, and love meant the world to him.  But love wasn’t Michael.

The taste of his name was still sweet on Gavin’s lips, he tasted like honey and beer.

But Ryan became love, and that was good, very good.

He and love had a song and a daughter now, Vincent and Lisa.

And Gavin worked with film still, and a crisp fall day, he was walking home when he saw him.

Love looked older now, hurt, emancipated. But still just as beautiful.

Love was sitting in an alley, a joint clutched in his thin hands.

Gavin couldn’t bring himself to move, Love’s once bright brown eyes were blank and cloudy, his once luscious cinnamon curls hung long and dirty over his once muscular shoulders.

Love hadn’t noticed hi, his hands were dancing recklessly and Gavin felt the pull toward him.

And finally, Michael, love, looked up

Michael’s heart sank.

Love was so beautiful. His eyes were still the color of grass, and his hair was still the color of wheat.

Love was exactly how he remembered.

And love saw him and Michael stood up and Gavin stepped toward him.

They stood a couple steps apart, eyes locked together.

Nothing was said, but Gavin nodded his head, and Michael followed.

They walked through the park, not a word was said.

They sat on the park bench, the one that fit the perfectly. It was broken now, the right arm was broken off, the back was cracked and the paint was peeling, but it still fit them perfectly.

Gavin told him about his life, about Ryan with is flubs and enchiladas, and his daughter with orange hair and freckles that were sprinkled like stars over her face.

About his son, Vincent, and his curly dark hair and serious green eyes and an affinity for firetrucks and love for Minecraft.

Michael was twitching, his hands couldn’t stop moving and the need for drugs were creeping into his system.

But he stayed with Gavin, and Gavin asked him about his life.

But Michael couldn’t bring himself to talk about the whiskey bottle and the dark nights in alley ways and dirty hotel rooms with grabbing hands and money exchanges.

So Michael lied.

He could tell Gavin didn’t believe him, but nothing was said and Michael walked with Gavin back to his car.

“Thank you,” Michael said, shaking his hand, before turning away, walking down the street without another word.

And Gavin watched from the driver’s seat of his car, the music was low, barely a hum.

Gavin flipped it off and listened to the quiet.

“Thank you for stopping by.”                                               
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month later, a call came through on Gavin’s phone.

It was the police station, a dead man was found in a dark alley, from a drug overdose, and he had an envelope clutched in his emancipated hands reading Gavin’s name.

Gavin threw Vincent at Ryan practically and took off, breaking every speeding rule and law there was.

He crashed into the station, and was handed the letter.

“Dear Gavin,

There are so many things that I wish I could say. But I don’t have much time. I just wanted you to know that you were the best thing that had ever happened to me. And seeing you one last time was the next best moment of my life. The best was do you remember, the park bench with the shooting stars and just being with you. Thank you Gavin, for stopping by.”

Gavin wept for the words he was never able to say, and for the things he would always regret.

But he dried his eyes and went home to his love, and to his children, because there was nothing else that he could do.

And he stumbled through his life, Ryan’s hand clutched in his and baby Vincent held tightly in his arms at night.

And a week later, Ryan and Gavin went to the funeral.

It was barren, empty, but for 3 men.

The mustached man that Gavin knew so well, who had encouraged Gavin to move in with Michael. Geoff Ramsey, his best friend.

A bearded man, who said his name was Jack Patillo, and had known Michael from a shelter, and that Michael was one of the best men he ever knew.

Finally was a Puerto Rican man, slight with thick glasses, wearing his suit awkwardly.

He didn’t offer explanation, but over the stereo the song Hold on Till May by Pierce the Veil played and the man couldn’t look anyone in the eyes.

And after Michael was safely six feet under, Gavin stood by the tomb, listening to the silence.

He touched the headstone carefully.

“Thank you, Michael, for stopping by.”

                                                                                             

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was enjoyed.  
> I debated so much about putting in the funeral scene and I hope it doesn't take anything away from the story.  
> Please check out the two spoken word poems this story was based on from the Summery. They are both from youtube  
> I would love some constructive criticism because this is the first story I've ever really worked on for more than a week.
> 
> Other than that, nothing much.  
> I'm working on a raywood oneshot that I dont know if I will write or not.
> 
> Fun fact, is considered writing Michaels death scene in, as well as extending the time afterward and showing Gavin's life after Michaels death. I decided not to because of a book I love. In the last Harry Potter book There is a sad moment toward the end and the way jk Rowling wrote it was very detached and fast. And that's what I wanted to it be for Gavin, really detached and uncertain, and I didn't want things to be okay in a year after epilogue scene because things probably arent always going to be alright, but that's okay and I felt that was a point I wanted to make in this story.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


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